Category Archives: thoughts

I’m that friend. The woman in the group whose’s stereotyped into, her career comes first, her life comes first. Finding a man, having kids is not happening anytime soon.

I hate this stereotype. I feel like society sets this up and I feel like I let it happen. I let it affect me and I feel like most women in my shoes do the same as well.

We feel guilty, alone and like we don’t belong at times. Like we’ve been branded an outside.

Just because I don’t want a boyfriend in this moment doesn’t mean I don’t get lonely. I don’t sit in my room and miss having someone there with me. But there’s also that voice in my head that reminds me I’m too busy to give someone everything they want and relationships a year ago were an addiction, the way I tried getting over the past and those who’ve hurt me.

So yes I’m taking my time, yes I’m not looking for anything serious.

Do I still feel out-of-place? Most of the time. Do I worry everyone will pair up, family will pass away and I will be wishing I had someone? Yes everyday. But I try not to think about. That’s all I can really do. Wait for that right person to enter my life, even if I’m not sure if that will really ever happen.

Would it be sad if I never found the one? A little. But I can say at this point in my life I’m a strong woman. I love my life, I love my poetry, I love the idea of my future and I couldn’t be happier.

Here’s to being single, people judging me, giving them the bird and mouthing, “fuck you.”

The first time I ever has sex was my junior year of high school. I was 17 and the first friend in my group of friend to check this next step into “growing up.” Something that sounded rather more exciting than actually doing it and I really don’t much have much memory of my first time, or the many times to follow. Besides the room, my ex and a few feeling here and there.

That unsure feeling in the moment. The push into the idea “pun-intended” the shaking and worry of who I will feel like after all this.

I didn’t feel any different.

My body was still thin and my boobs remained small. My freckles didn’t shift towards my feet like they were trying to run away, migrate to a safer body.

Many young women try so hard, through ritual steps to fill those heels and walk like a lady. Like at 10-years-old we weren’t women yet, like feeling our bodies shift, our periods flow and men staring at our growing bodies wasn’t enough to call ourselves women.

We women always feel like we must the tests to become a woman. The period, the bra of different lace, boyfriend, break-ups, cheating, sex (good at it) sexy but holy white, get married, have kids and raise them well. Then we feel like a woman? So far all I’ve learned is how none of these so-called “rights of passage” do nothing to make feel any more like a woman. If anything I have felt more embarrassed, ashamed and trying more and more to be the right kind of woman for the right kind of guy that’s going to be everything for me.

And he never came along. (Ok I’m young) But 25 is right around the corner and this society I’m apart, the one I’ve dressed up for, wore colors on my face and bleed with for years now expects I would have found “him.”

Being that young woman, almost 25, very single and thinking about my next career moves. Makes me feel like an outsider in my culture. I know the culture is shifting but in many respects it’s not. feminist is still a dirty word and people at open mic’s and classrooms want to rinse my mouth out with soap. People still tell me what to wear and not wear. Other’s stare at my breast, make sexist comments to my face and many disrespect my space and my voice.

I haven’t had sex in six months. A record for me. I’ve been having sex since I was 17 and the longest I’ve gone without sex was four months, so being 24 years old and I haven’t had sex in six months is a record-breaking event.

It’s not looking like this record is going to end anytime soon and it’s due to a mix of things. I don’t like any of the men in the area. I don’t want them to touch after hearing the words that flap off their tongues. And I’m really enjoying touching myself lately.

Sex has always been me dictionary definition of who I am. I’m good at sex. I’m sexy, slutty and I know what a man wants. My blow jobs are good and know how to follow the ride.

This was everything I thought I was. So when Thrilla cheated on me and he was second person to cheat on me if really shattered my image of who I was. Because I thought I could keep someone around if I gave them sex, was good at sex and could bend my back in just the right ways.

Sex does not make me more of a woman.

It took me most of my life so far to figure this out.

And I don’t want any other women to feel like this, though I know many do. So I will do everything in my power to end this. It’s time our generation moves on and educates women correctly about sex.

It’s not a definition for who you are as a person or what you can give.

Six months is a long time for me and if you asked me a year ago if I hadn’t sex in six months I would have hated it. But right now in this moment I don’t feel less of a person. If anything I feel more like myself and more of a woman because I have given myself something I always gave to others. My time.

I’m disappointed in a few of my poet friends. (Should I be surprised?) No. That’s how artist can be sometimes and Speech and debate performers for that matter, so I’m use to this disappointment. I must remind myself, that it’s their loss and they are artist who do not want their career to grow like mine. So fuck it!

There’s this perpetual feeling that swings back and forth in my chest. I am far too busy for a relationship, to give myself to a man. But then there is that sinking feeling. Watching others pair up and I just feel like that unicorn in my childhood Noah’s ark book, sitting alone on a rock, watching the water climb up. I know its morbid but what happens when all my family dies, when uncles and aunts are gone, when my parents leave this life? I’m starting to understand the true need to find someone and it’s kind of sad all around. That we cannot fathom being alone so we must pair up with another, settle for someone else to create our happiness instead of it being the other way around. I think about my professor and how he says how thankful he is for his wife and all the shows she goes to with him. And I don’t have that. Not right now anyways. But then it begs the question, do I want to settle? No.

And so continues the never-ending cycle and the thoughts of loneliness

I’m moving soon. Leaving the midwest (for now) and returning to California. Going to teach high school, coach some speech and work on my writing. I’m nervous to leave all my friends and a city that has been so good to me. But it’s time. Time to try a bigger stage for my poetry. I’m ready for this. (I hope)

I had a nice chat with my poetry professor yesterday. He spoke some wonderful words to me about my work and how I will make a wonderful teacher. (I needed that) As you’ll (who read) notice I’ve been a bit down on myself and my work. I need a boost, because I was really doubting my work recently. Today I’m feeling better. I’m working on a poem that means a lot to me and I’m hoping to have it done for workshop tomorrow.

When I return home to California I’ll be 25-years-old. I’m transiting into who I will be for the rest of my life. I’m really proud of myself. 9-year-old Sally would have never thought I would end up here. A writer, an English major and almost done with school. But thinking about grad school. These were once just silly dreams of mine, from a “special kid.” I don’t feel disable very often.

I’m gradating soon and I have seen so many of my fellow talented writers leave college and to never write again.

I don’t want that to happen to my poems.

But is this a real thing? Many moments throughout my day consist of the thought, am I really good at this whole poetry writing stuff or is everyone just being really nice to me? Because who would say, “Well Sally maybe you should try something else.” This is all I got, I love it, I live for it, it’s what makes me feel better and I am the most happy writing and performing. But how will I make money? How will I get into a great MFA (Full time or low residency)

I want to be the best, but this just never seems to be in the cards for me, well I suppose I just need to dig really deep.

I’m just been so down on myself this week and my work. Maybe it’s the period, maybe the terrible back pain that makes me sleepy and in exhausted. MaybeI’m just facing some hard facts.

Stress has become a huge player in my everyday life. My mother has always been a very stressed out person and I’m sure I’ve developed some of that stress from growing up around her.

Along with this stress is the terrible pain of my back and neck that has been playing out and its terrible. The amount of medicine I have taken and icy hot on my back has become never-ending and almost placing no effect on making me feel better. My back and neck pain makes everything exhausting and painful. It’s really slowed me down the past few weeks and I’m struggling to keep up.

Friends have become stressful. I love them to pieces but keeping up with everyone’s needs has killed me and stressed me out.

Poetry is always stressful, but I suppose of all the stresses I’m happy and try not to complain about the stresses of writing. More I’m sad my time with my professors is almost over. Of course I have moments of clarity, moments of immense doubt in myself and moments I just want a glass of wine.

But I’m worried because I feel like I’m close to a breaking point, like I’m going to just start crying and freak out. (Great Crazy Sally) I’m trying to prevent this from happening but I’m worried.

Dating stresses me out, more upset at the past, memories I’m ashamed of and the idea that I may never find someone I want to be with. There are plenty that would want to spend their time with me and I’m grateful and flattered but I’m not sure I want any of them. And the more i watch friends find someone and have someone and then the ideas of family members will die, my parents one day will be gone and it will be just me. It really puts everything into perspective the whole meaning behind lovely yourself, because everyday it really is just you. Yes you have friends, family, co-workers and peers but (ok this sounds morbid) but they’re going to die (you’re going to die) or you’ll lose touch with people, realize you no longer work. So its morbid weird thing I’ve been thinking about. Really understanding what loving yourself means.

I think this is where loneliness comes from.

When you have no one. I think this is why many pair off into mates, because it’s no fun feeling lonely and there’s the added plus of kids and passing on a bit of yourself.

Each night I fall asleep and whisper, “I am in love with myself.”

Each day I become more unsure if I ever will find someone who will match up with me, or if I will ever want to match up with someone. For all I know I do with so many but have turned them away because of this gut sick feeling I have towards dating right now. I almost feel sick and don’t want anymore to touch me. To be honest I’m a bit worried what this all means. I hope some of it comes from strength.

I’m pushing the hot showers, the chocolate, watching TV shows, getting more normal sleep than I normally get, like for example its 1:30am and after I post this I’m going to pass out and wake up at 9am. Normally I don’t fall asleep until 3am. I think the sleep and candy is keeping the break down at bay. I’m worried the neck pain is going to push the break down out in the open.

Just need to continue the deep breathing and wine.

And food…lots of food.

Also masturbating here and there. Like I shit you not I was in the middle of writing a paper, got horny, masturbated and then went back to writing.

I’ve been having sex since I was a junior in high school (my first time) I think I was 17 years old and I may have been one of the last of my friends to get my period in middle school but I was the first of the group to lose my virginity. Not surprised at all. I was always the more sexual one of the group. The crazy, freaky, fast paced friend who never really slowed down.

It’s been five months since I’ve had sex. This is the longest I have gone without sex since my first time. Between 17 and 24 I was either in a long-term relationship or having a good old-time with groups of different guys. Of course there were moment of dry spells. Little ones though, like four months.

This dry spell has no end in sight. I’m not worried or upset. It’s more of my ongoing joke and something I enjoy talking about.

But don’t you hate it when you tell people you’re going through a dry spell and they try to out do you and tell you they spent even longer not having sex. Like you say, “Oh, its been six months now.” And then someones shots, “oh I went two years.”

What do you want? A slow hand clap? A gold star? Sex from me?

Don’t you also hate those people with statements: Oh, I don’t need sex.I’m asexual. Ha! I think it’s almost insulting to those of us that can admit sexual desires play an integral role in our daily lives. It’s like when you were a little kid playing sports and you cry after getting hit by a basketball and your friend would laugh and shout, “ha I never cry, because I’m tough.”

Also they always seem like they are looking down upon you and you need to get your act together. Ugh I dislike this. Especially from those who don’t even masturbate. These are healthy needs, like wanting pie or smoothies.

Masturbating: Don’t you hate it when you masturbate to a certain song a few times so after that its hard to listen to it in public. I masturbated to Katy Perry’s “Dark Horse” one too many times. Now I live in fear that if it comes on the radio…I may come too…